Honey, we shouldn’t pray for him.
The words didn’t come out of my mouth, but they came close, derailed somewhere on the way from my brain to my tongue. And they stuck there, in the back of my throat, settling like ash. I was left staring down into my daughter’s eyes, not knowing what to say, surprised at my unchecked response.
That thought had never entered my mind about anyone else before in my life, that there were people you shouldn’t pray for. Her words stirred around in my mind.
Make sure you pray for him in prison, she had said. You know, pray that he’ll have a good night’s sleep.
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Today, I’m posting over at Deeper Story. You can read the rest of the post HERE.